


Heaven is a Faraway Place

by misura



Category: Legion (2010)
Genre: Character Death Fix, Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Redemption, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought he was dead," Jeep says.</p><p>"He is an angel," Michael replies, not looking away. "He cannot die. The Lord loves him too well."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven is a Faraway Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).



It's not easy, those first weeks.

Having Michael along helps, sure - except that it only takes Jeep two, three days to figure out that, in his own way, Michael is as out of his element here as he and Charlie are, which is fair enough, he supposes. Jeep's a mechanic, meaning he knows about cars, and Charlie's a waitress, meaning she knows about normal life, and Michael's a soldier, meaning he knows about wars and battles and killing things that need killing.

None of them've got the sort of skills you need to, say, build a fire or find clean drinking water.

"There's other people out there, right?" Charlie asks, one night.

Jeep's managed to get a fire going. A small one. It's a dark, dark night out there.

"I mean," she goes on, "we heard them on the radio. Militias. We could - "

"No," Michael says, and it's a very absolute 'no'.

"We're not going to make it without some sort of help," Jeep says. "We need food. Shelter."

Charlie sighs and stretches. "I'd kill for a shower."

"You may very well need to," Michael says, unsmiling.

Fair enough; it wasn't much of a joke anyway. Still: "You want Charlie's baby to live, right?" What Jeep wants to say is _I'll do whatever it takes to keep Charlie and her baby alive_. Only problem is: he's not sure what it will take, and he's learned by now that sometimes, your best shot isn't good enough.

"That, I do." Michael sighs and rises. "Very well. I will ask."

 _Ask who?_ Jeep almost replies, but then Charlie grabs his hand and squeezes it and he figures that on second thought, he can probably guess.

Funny, how the idea that God may be on their side now doesn't really feel like much of a comfort.

 

The next morning, it rains ... _stuff_.

"You gotta be kidding me." Charlie picks up a bit of stuff, brushing the dirt off of it. It's light-brown, soft to the touch. It smells like bread, faintly. "Are we supposed to, what, eat this?"

Michael frowns as he picks a few bits out of his wings. "It will keep you alive and healthy," he says. "Or, well, you may still die, but it will not be due to hunger or thirst."

"What about the baby?" Jeep's read a couple of books on the sort of food you can feed babies, but all of them were written with the assumption that there'd still be things like supermarkets around.

"It is manna," Michael says, sounding a bit irritated. Like they're being ungrateful here, which, well, maybe. Jeep figures it's probably not everyone who gets breakfast rained on them from above.

Charlie doesn't look particularly impressed. "That's a yes, right?" She nibbles on a bit of manna, grimaces.

"Not good?"

She shrugs. "Just bland."

"Bland's okay," Jeep says quickly. "So uh, hey. Thanks."

He thanks Michael, not God. The way Jeep looks at it, it's going to take a whole lot more than a rain of bland food to make up for trying to kill all of mankind, divine creator or not.

 

They're not really driving anywhere, so when they reach a house, two days later, and Michael tells Charlie to stop the car, Jeep figures it's just for supplies or something.

It still rains manna three times a day. Jeep used to look forwards to meals, to taking a break, getting to stretch his legs a bit, trying not to notice how little they had left, or worry about where they were going to find more. Not so much anymore, these days.

"We may dwell here, for a few years," Michael says, as he holds the door open for Charlie, who's carrying the baby. "It is a remote place, and safe."

"A few _years_?"

Michael shrugs. "Longer, perhaps. It depends."

 _On what?_ Jeep doesn't ask. He's dreamt about this, hasn't he? Getting to take care of Charlie and her baby - and if there's an angel hanging around while he does so, so what?

 

As it turns out, either 'a few years' really means 'a few _months_ ', or the place isn't as safe and remote as Michael (or God?) assumed it to be.

Jeep wakes to a sound he remembers from the night Audrey died. It's not a good memory.

Michael is on the roof already, armed, wings spread, staring at a small speck in the distance that grows into someone Jeep hoped to never see again.

"I thought he was dead."

"He is an angel," Michael says, not looking away. "He cannot die. The Lord loves him too well."

Gabriel lands on the roof. He's armed. Jeep considers shooting him - or trying to, anyway.

"Fear not, for I come bearing bad news." Gabriel grins, showing teeth. Jeep, perversely, feels himself relax, because he knows what it means when people grin like that. There's malice in it, yes, but it's a distant kind of malice. "You are about to be attacked by some of the human vermin currently roaming these forsaken lands. They seem to believe they may find succor for their own suffering in your deaths."

"I have never feared you," Michael says. "If ever I feared, it was _for_ you. For what I saw you might become, were your eyes to remain blinded to the truth, and your heart untouched."

Gabriel grins again. "Well, my heart has certainly been touched by now."

"Will you stay and help?" Michael asks.

"No," Gabriel says, but it's not an absolute no. "Although I believe I may stay and watch, for a while."

 

It's bad.

These are not the possessed, not inhuman beings pretending to be something they aren't; they're _people_ , breathing, living people. Armed, yes, and dangerous, no doubt.

 _Desperate,_ Jeep thinks. _Hungry._ He could really get to hate God.

He's not sure what he'd have done without Charlie and her baby there, and Michael. He might have walked out of the house, maybe, tried to settle things peacefully. Joined them, even. This is not a world in which any human being should be alone.

Charlie _is_ there, though, with her baby, needing Jeep to defend her.

He doesn't fire even a single shot. Or throw up, after, although it's a close thing.

 

"I take no pleasure in it," Gabriel says. He's perched on an old barstool. Like Michael, his wings keep him from sitting comfortably in anything resembling a chair. "It is simply what I was made for. A soldier."

Jeep says nothing. Charlie is feeding her baby.

"We must strive to be more than that," Michael says, which is news to Jeep. He's never noticed Michael making any sort of effort to be anything other than a fighter, someone who is good with a gun, good at keeping people alive in a battle.

"Must we?" Gabriel spreads his wings a little. "Well, if you say so, I am sure it must be true. He has told me to heed your words in all matters. It would seem you are His favorite once more. Congratulations."

"Wow," Charlie says. "Jealous, much?"

Michael looks away and smiles. Gabriel scowls. Jeep feels a little dizzy.

"And will you heed my words as you heeded your own?" Michael asks.

Gabriel gestures dismissively. "I stayed. I watched. I exterminated some vermin."

"Those were people!" Jeep snaps. "Humans! They may have been bad, but they weren't vermin! They didn't deserve - "

"They deserved what they got," Michael - _Michael!_ says, holding up a hand.

"You're _defending_ him?"

Gabriel's turn to smile, looking smug.

"He tried to kill us!" Jeep says. "All of us."

"I even succeeded, in one case," Gabriel points out helpfully. "Of course, it was not permanent."

"You have not yet answered my question," Michael says. "Will you heed my words, Gabriel? Will you obey my commands?"

Gabriel puts a hand on his chest. "As if they were His own."

Jeep wonders if he's the only one who finds that less than reassuring.

 

Charlie takes it well. Better than Jeep would have expected - or hoped, he admits to himself. She may no longer be the most important person in Michael's worldview, but if she'd really wanted Gabriel to leave, Jeep's pretty sure she'd have been able to convince Michael.

As it is, Gabriel stays. And cooks breakfast.

"This is manna?" It doesn't taste like manna.

Gabriel shrugs. "It's all a matter of finding the right preparation. I mean, why eat military rations when you can have something a bit less bland? In times of peace, food should be enjoyed, don't you think?"

"Luxury," Michael says, helping himself to a plate. "Decadence."

"You can eat the bland stuff if you want to," Charlie says.

Gabriel snorts. Jeep realizes he's grinning. Forces himself to stop, feeling strangely guilty.

 

"Well, it's easier, of course," Gabriel says.

It's night - he and Michael are on the roof, which is about the only place where they can unfold their wings while sitting down. Jeep can hear them from his bedroom, with the window open.

He feels a bit like he's intruding.

"Kill the ones who don't shine as brightly, and hold up the dregs that remain as proof that humans may be deserving of a savior after all. Not a bad strategy, brother."

"You misread me," Michael says. "As you misread God."

"Ah yes, you love them, don't you?" Gabriel chuckles. "Such an easy, all-forgiving love. Tell me, do you think they return it? How many humans do you think would still praise His name, if they but knew that He had condemned them all to die?"

"I love you still, though you sought to end my existence," Michael says. "Is that any different?"

Jeep feels more than a bit like he's intruding now. On the other hand, if he'd close the window now, they'd probably hear.

"I really wanted to kill you a lot," Gabriel says. "It was my dearest wish. To wipe you from all of creation. To make it as if you had never been there. To rip out my very own heart, and crush it."

Michael sighs.

"So," Gabriel says, and there's a sound like someone's falling, sliding down the roof - for one, brief moment Jeep thinks that maybe Gabriel's use of the past tense was less than accurate, that he's only come down to Earth to try again, finish the job, to -

"Not here." Michael's voice, sounding a little breathless, a little ragged.

Gabriel laughs. "What, you no longer know how to keep quiet?"

"Not here," Michael repeats, but he sounds less convinced, less convincing.

Two minutes later, Jeep figures he can probably close his window without anyone hearing him.


End file.
